complexlysimple 34M
894 posts
4/12/2006 5:53 pm

Last Read:
12/16/2006 7:57 pm


I doubt my sanity,
I doubt my humanity,

When in the mirror I look,
all I see is a book,

filled with thought,
all worth naught,

a knife,
that moves with life,

a shell,
that beyond suicide fell.

Just another thing,
of which people like to sing,

telling others they know,
so their own reputations grow.

And so I wonder "Why,
should I even try?"

I no longer really care,
there is none special with which to share.

I don't know how,
to even find that now.

Some approach with lust,
or try to tell me I must,

then others tell me "Slow",
and nowhere do we go.

Age doesn't matter,
besides only the older will chatter,

with me,
much to my glee,

for now I have become that rare find,
I am now a creature of the mind.

The tits and pussies that easily do others in,
may try, but will have to work to get even a grin.

For that is the one way I have not been used,
or otherwise flat-out abused.

So perhaps I am naught,
but I'll take what I've got.

For I am what I am,
and that is anything but a sham.

absolutelynormal 56F
6563 posts
4/12/2006 6:41 pm

Blog on !

complexlysimple replies on 4/13/2006 5:09 pm:
And just when I was starting to wonder if anyone was actually reading these

absolutelynormal 56F
6563 posts
4/13/2006 8:24 pm

People may not comment, that's frustrating but you can see how many are reading what you write here. The more you write, the more will come to read. Just keep spilling your guts (read feelings) here, you'll feel better, not matter if anyone else reads it or not. I'll keep reading mac

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